


Training

by TMirai



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Drama, Erotica, Gay Sex, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Relationship(s), Romance
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-06-28
Updated: 2016-06-28
Packaged: 2018-07-18 21:38:58
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,622
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7331542
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/TMirai/pseuds/TMirai
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Jack finds himself running late for a very important training session, but his instructor may not be so inclined to grant forgiveness.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Training

**Author's Note:**

> I am quite obsessed with the connection between Reaper and Soldier: 76, who were both recruited into Overwatch while serving together in an experimental soldier enhancement program and, canonly, were very close friends. They share a lot of history, and while both characters are compelling as their current incarnations and aliases, the mysterious circumstances and possible facets of their relationship are interesting to think about. I have no hesitation with saying I ship them so hard, but more so their past selves. The idea of how such a relationship began when they were young soldiers, developed into a strong and complimentary partnership, and eventually crumbled is fascinating (and sexy) to explore.

Jack was late. Really late. Probably-going-to-get-his-ass-kicked late.

He was a blur through the hallways of Zurich HQ, traversing from the main administration building all the way to the research and development facility. Jack didn’t even bother with the tram system made available for personnel and soldiers; it’d take too long. Once he was across the long skywalk connecting the tall, sprawling buildings, he dashed through the corridors. His hand slapped against print scanners and he hastily swiped his clearance pass to unlock restricted area doors. Jack barely managed to precede his approach with “Excuse me!” or “Watch out!” as he sidestepped swiftly around bewildered Overwatch lab geeks. He even nearly collided into Angela and her research assistant.

“Jack, where the hell are you--” she tried to ask, disrupted papers still raining around her head as the intern scrambled to retrieve them.

“Training!” Jack managed to shout before disappearing around the corner. It probably wasn’t a good look for a senior officer to be so frantically flailing through a facility filled with sensitive tech and top-secret projects. But he was very, very late.

Avoiding the infuriatingly slow elevators, Jack ran down more flights of stairs than he cared to count. By the time he was on the sixth basement level, he was huffing as if he had just finished morning drills. Sacrificing a few precious seconds for a drink at the water fountain, the soldier jogged the rest of the way to room B6-007. He paused long enough to wipe the light sheen of sweat from his brow and catch his breath, but he was still panting when he pushed open the door.

The meeting room looked much larger with the tables and chairs folded away. The overhead fluorescents were off, and the secondary low-watt emergency lighting cast the space in a bare, blue-tinted glow.

The control console at the front of the room was also illuminated. A dark figure stood on the dias of the podium, face cast in stark black shadow and electric cobalt light as he stared at the transparent display.

Swallowing, Jack walked forward; the tap of his boots was loud in the quiet room. “Gabriel, I..” he started, stammering on his words before rushing through, “I’m so sorry I’m late.”

The man on the raised platform didn’t acknowledge him for a moment, long enough for Jack to gulp again and run a trembling hand through his blonde hair. It wasn’t just the adrenaline from the run that made him shake, but guilt and anxiety too.

Gabriel finally turned and stepped down off the dais, but walked no further. Shadow fell under his heavy brow. Jack didn’t need to see his eyes to know they were giving him that icy glare only Gabriel Reyes could deliver. He could feel it, not to mention the soldier’s mouth was a tight, emotionless frown.

“I know you’re pissed…” Jack began, holding up his hands as if to defend himself against the torrent of anger sure to come. Gabriel only looked away pointedly, and it took Jack a second to realize he wasn’t being petulant. He followed the soldier’s gaze to the digital clock on the wall, and visibly flinched at the time displayed. “The commanders meeting went on and on, and I tried to get over here as fast as I could but I got...side-tracked and….”

Gabriel looked at him, crossing his muscled arms against his chest. As he continued to regard him with stony silence, Jack felt irritation rise hot in his face. He was becoming too acquainted with that expression.

“Look, I didn’t mean to be this late,” he said, voice firmer and expression sobered. “But standing here giving me that look isn’t going to do anything but waste more time.” His tone deflated a little, and he shifted nervously, still feeling cowed under the other man’s unwavering stare. “So. Let’s get started.”

When Gabriel didn’t immediately reply, Jack was certain he intended to drive him into a fury with his aloof, asshole-ishness. Yet before he could open his mouth to snap, Gabriel grunted, “Fine.”

It was one word without any inflection, but Jack knew Gabriel Reyes well enough to know when he was pissed. The soldier turned to walk back to the console, and Jack suppressed a huff. He walked further into the room, removing his security badge and dog tags before tossing them on the single unfolded table against the wall. Returning to the middle of the cleared space, he rolled his shoulders, gave each of his limbs a good shake, and popped his knuckles before bouncing in place to further loosen up. “I’ve been practicing, you know,” he said matter-of-factly, looking toward Gabriel.

He heard the soldier snicker. “We’ll see about that.” Gabriel finished with his preparations, and walked briskly across the floor to stand in front of Jack until the toes of their boots were nearly touching. His dark eyes narrowed coolly at him. “If you’re as shitty as you were last time, Morrison, I’ll make sure your request for leave is revoked.”

Visibly flinching, Jack’s teeth clenched behind his lips. He knew Gabriel didn’t have the authority to actually do such a thing. He had the connections though, and given the way their interactions had been so...different lately, he couldn’t be sure Gabriel was bullshitting.

“I won’t be,” Jack replied stubbornly. He lifted his arms out wide, hands held just above shoulder level.

The bare curl of Gabriel’s lips was infuriatingly snide. He reached for Jack’s warm, slightly moist hand. “We’ll see.”

The man’s voice that suddenly belted from the room’s speakers was boisterous, his words foreign but their sound familiar. Jack took the cue and put his left hand on Gabriel’s shoulder, while Gabriel’s reached just behind the pit of his arm. He lifted their clasped hands out to the side.

“We’re gonna start with Merengue first,” Gabriel said over the man’s rapid talking. “Remember. One leg always straight, one leg bent. Quick steps, but stay loose.”

Jack scowled as his blue eyes fixated almost challengingly on Gabriel’s. “I know.”

“And don’t look at your feet. Look at me and let my movements tell you where to go. ”

“I know.”

“And I’m leading.” Gabriel’s tone and stare were harder as he stressed the words.

Jack’s determined gaze faltered, and his eyes flicked down. “I know,” he mumbled.

A rapid flurry of percussion, and a final jubilant shout of Spanish, and the room filled with vibrant, energetic music. Jack felt Gabriel lean forward on his left foot, and he responded, stepping back on his right. With that first move, he was led in swift, tight steps to the quickest tempo of the music. Their hips and shoulders swayed in a mirroring synchronicity, Gabriel’s lead determining the direction. Jack was trying not to focus too much; Gabriel said that was one of his worst problems (in addition to, according to him, having “two left feet naturally lacking in rhythm.”) There were just so many body parts he had to remember to move in corresponding motions. If he was focusing on moving his feet right, he forgot his shoulders and hips and went stiff. And if he was thinking about moving his shoulders, then it tripped up his feet. Not thinking about any of them separately, as Gabriel encouraged, only made him lose the rhythm of the music; he would feel like a puppet with three hinges flailing in different directions. 

Merengue was, by far, the hardest of the dances Gabriel had taught Jack over the past several months. It was so damn quick and, like the other styles, completely dependent on the follower taking cues from their leader to know what to do next. A concept more than familiar to an experienced soldier, yet Jack would rather be on a battlefield than a dance floor any day. Gabriel Reyes wasn’t giving him that choice.

To his own utter surprise though, Jack was doing quite well. Or at least he thought so. He may not have been entirely smooth in his movements, but he wasn’t stumbling or missing the counts. Gabriel made no disapproving grunts or growls, nor did his hands tighten and jerk pointedly at his partner’s to correct him. They led him with the effortless familiarity of an experienced dancer. Jack had to admit Gabriel was a patient teacher; he only showed frustration when he knew Jack wasn’t focusing or trying to distract him.

As Gabriel’s hands moved, coming in close between their bellies, Jack responded accordingly and turned twice without stumbling. When they came back together, hands replaced in the starting position and feet easily falling into synchronized step, Jack noted the surprise in Gabriel’s expression.

“You have been practicing,” he said, his face and voice not as placid as they were before.

Jack grinned, more than pleased his improvement was not unnoticed. “Told you. You thought I was lying.” The other man arched a brow, wordlessly articulating his response; Jack clucked his tongue. “O’ ye of little fai--”

The toes of their boots clapped together. Gabriel’s fingers tightened and Jack winced, though not from the firmer grip. “Sorry,” he mumbled, face reddening with heat.

“Focus,” Gabriel grunted. He wore a bare smile, the first earnest one since they started. “You know you can’t talk and do anything else at the same time.”

That faint, handsome, hooded-eyed smirk--and the sudden flutter in his chest that resulted from it--threatened to trip Jack up again. He grinned and resisted a playful retort in lieu of renewing his concentration.

They went through a few more tracks, and by the end of the fifth Jack knew he was much better off than the last time they had met for their “training.” He only faltered a few times, mostly on the more complicated cross turns and hand switches. His earlier gruffness seemingly forgotten, Gabriel was forgiving, gently correcting his lover and slowly guiding him through the movements. Every time his strong hand pressed against Jack’s hip to emphasize the direction of his turn or smoothed down the length of his arm to reposition its placement, he felt heat creep into his cheeks, ears, and places much lower.

They followed up Merengue with a few line dances, which of Jack’s favorites as they were, comparatively, the easiest. Line dancing was more familiar to him, having done a bit of it in his youth. Once he got the repeating sequences down, it was easy. He liked to add his own flair to the moves. A dramatic shimmy of his hips. A more pronounced swing of his arms as he clapped. All to get a reaction out of Gabriel, who he knew was watching him closely.

“You look ridiculous,” the man snickered, but he was smiling.

Jack glanced over and let his blue eyes slather from the muscles of Gabriel’s chest flexing beneath his snug t-shirt to his swaying ass. “I think the word you’re looking for is sexy.” He grinned wider as they dipped in unison, feeling a surge of triumph when Gabe laughed at his stripper-worthy ab roll on the way up. “Think Noelle will be impressed?”

“I don’t know about impressed.” The way his brown eyes were so warm, illuminated with a brightness that Jack had been missing, made him smile all the wider. “Surprised, for certain. And amused.”

“But not embarrassed, right?”

Gabriel chuckled, his eyes still holding Jack’s as they danced. “Naw. Not embarrassed. I think you’ve learned enough that you won’t make an ass out of yourself at her wedding.”

“Oh, I can’t wait to see the looks on everyone’s faces when they see your pan blanco boyfriend has some moooooves~” He emphasized the last word and the final chords of the song with a cha-cha step paired with a wholly unsexy smoldering lip pucker.

Laughing again, Gabriel shook his head as he turned to ascend the dais. “Well, pan blanco, we’ve only got time for a couple more since you were late.” He tapped at the controls, skipping a few songs.

“Make it something good then,” Jack said, shuffling his feet and undulating his shoulders and arms in overly pronounced waves. “I’ve barely broken a sweat.”

The song Gabriel chose was, indeed, a good one. The dulcet melody of a guitar flowed from the speakers, followed by a sonorously crooning voice. Thrown off by the unexpected, slow change in tempo, Jack’s feet stumbled to a halt as he watched Gabriel return to their dance floor. He did not miss the slight sway of his hips.

“You remember this one?” he asked. Gabriel’s voice was even, contrasting to the near heady quality of his dark, hooded eyes.

Jack’s lips curled into what was probably the dumbest grin ever. “Uh, yeah, I think so.” Of course he remembered. It was his favorite.

Gabriel reached out to his lover and when Jack gave him his hand, his thumb stroked over his knuckles. The man pulled him in close, and Jack’s breath caught as he felt the heat rising from Gabriel’s body more acutely than before with just a few scant inches in between their chests. His hand lifted to Gabriel’s wonderfully broad, hard shoulder, and they started dancing.

It was a basic rumba based-step, a smooth, sensual quick-quick-slow that carried them in a glide across the floor. “Better than that bullshit back and forth swaying you people do,” Gabriel had said. Jack couldn’t disagree. This was infinitely better. There was just so much more to it. More hips and shoulders. More rolling muscles and undulating spines. More near touching and teasing proximity. More intent. What was the point of slow dancing if it didn’t leave you, and your partner, turned on and wanting?

Jack thought about Gabriel’s sensuously rolling hips and the way his abdomen was probably flexing under his shirt, but he never looked away from his eyes. The indulgent gaze he found there was more arousing. He had missed that look.

“You’re such a good dancer,” Jack murmured, his own blue gaze dreamy.

“You always say that.” Gabriel’s full mouth quirked in a small smile. “All the more reason why you needed to get good before the wedding. I couldn’t have you embarrassing me like at Bianca’s quinceanera. I’ve got a rep to maintain.”

“Who would have thought that rep included being a ballroom dancer?” His head canted, and he smirked pensively. “Would you have really left me here if I still sucked at this?”

Gabriel snickered, but it was accompanied by a soft expression that filled Jack with relief. “Of course not. Showing up alone after I told them you were coming would be more embarrassing than your shitty dancing.” His fingers flexed against the blonde’s back before caressing down to his waist. Jack shuddered, feeling Gabriel’s thumb touch the sliver of bare skin under the hem of his shirt. “But I’m not worried any more.”

There was a shift in his face, and he sighed through his nose. “Besides. They’re excited about introducing you to the rest of the family as Strike-Commander Morrison.”

Jack’s face involuntarily twitched. The flutter in his belly twisted into a tangled knot. “Gabe...look…”

“I’m going to turn you now.”

Jack croaked, but Gabriel was already lifting his hand and pulling on his hip to guide him into a slow underarm turn. When they came face-to-face again, Jack’s eyes lowered to Gabriel’s shoulder.

The cool tension between them and the solid heat of his lover’s body was such an odd, misplaced contrast. It had become a sensation too frequently experienced, now normal to the point Jack expected it every time he encountered Gabriel. He knew why it was there and when it started, but he hated to acknowledge those answers. It made him feel frustrated, angry, and then guilty. And then that guiltiness made him feel frustrated and angry all over again, starting a cycle he had yet to break. He needed to say something, to find some way to resolve whatever this was.

But he never knew how, and no opportunity seemed appropriate. More than that, he had petulantly convinced himself that it should be Gabriel that breached the subject considering he was the one with the problem. Jack knew that wasn’t fair. Still, it was enough to silence his tongue.

Gabriel moved their clasped hands, bringing Jack out of his quiet pondering. He thought the man intended another turn, but instead brought his partner’s hand to his shoulder. He left it there, then dropped his own to Jack’s waist to encircle it. Gabriel hugged the other soldier snugly against his body. 

Jack blinked, stupefied for a few quick, thudding heartbeats. Then he smiled, tilting his head forward to meet Gabriel’s. “This isn’t proper form,” he teased. His arms slipped around his lover’s shoulders, fingers curling near the nape of his neck. 

“I know.” Gabriel flexed his hand against Jack’s lower back, fingers pulling on the hem of his t-shirt. At the first brush of warm skin against skin, his lover’s rough fingers caressing over the swell of his hip, Jack shuddered.

“Well, well. Now who’s being a distraction?” he murmured with a weak laugh.

The low sound rumbling in Gabriel’s throat drew another electric tremor down Jack’s spine. His voice was just as heavy and quiet. “Would you rather I stopped?”

“Mm, no.” He carded his fingers through the hair at Gabriel’s neck, enjoying the resulting purr. “I mean, I’m just saying. You always give me shit for getting handsy while we’re dancing and distracting you.”

Jack grinned wider, and turned his head to murmur close to Gabriel’s ear. “I tried really hard to focus and do well today, I’ll have you know. I took time for...extra preparations. Which is why I was late.”

Gabriel snorted as he pushed his hands further up the back of Jack’s t-shirt, firmly rubbing over the skin that flushed and goose-pimpled under his touch. “You’re going to tell me you were late because you were practicing?”

“No, not practicing.” Jack’s blue eyes hooded slyly, and he dropped his voice to a more sibilant whisper. “I can’t help getting turned on dancing with you, but I figured if I weren’t so pent, maybe I wouldn’t get so distracted. So after my meeting, I stopped in one of the officer’s restrooms. And I thought of dancing with you, of how damn sexy you look and how your hands feel on me. And I got rid of all that tension.”

Gabriel’s feet immediately stopped. Jack could feel a faint shudder in the fingers clutched against him. Abruptly, the soldier jerked back, staring at him with narrowed eyes.

“You kept me waiting for almost an hour..because you were jerking off in a bathroom,” he stated in his deadpan, clipped voice.

The smug smirk on Jack’s lips inverted into a frown. “Well. When you put it like that it doesn’t sound as sexy…”

He trailed off as Gabriel’s face began to contort comically. “Ugh, you asshole!” Jack huffed. He shoved against his chest, feeling Gabriel’s laughter under his hands. “You ruined my seduction.”

His grip tightening on Jack’s waist to keep him from pulling away, Gabriel shook his head. “Maybe if I hadn’t been so pissed at you, I’d be seduced.” One brow arched and his dark eyes lowered. “So did it work?”

Jack was still trying to dislodge himself from his boyfriend’s snug hold. “You tell me. I didn’t pop any boners while we were dancing, did I?”

“No, you didn’t. I have to say, I was impressed. You danced very well, Jack.”

Gabriel’s hands were suddenly on Jack’s backside, pulling their bodies together firmly. There was no missing the hard swell behind the soldier’s slacks now pressed against Jack’s crotch. “It’s too bad you’ve worked out all of your tension…” he purred huskily, leaning his face in close. “What are we gonna do about mine?”

A grin spreading on his lips, Jack’s arms coiled around Gabriel’s shoulders. “We’re supposed to be dancing.” The last word was emphasized with a lewd roll of his hips. The rigid shape of his lover’s erection through their clothing made his own loins grow warm and firm.

“We can still dance,” Gabriel whispered, still pawing at Jack’s taut backside. His hips began to sway to the slow tempo of the sensual music.

“I’m not sure this is dancing,” Jack countered with a snicker, but did not resist following Gabriel’s movements. He let him lead their bodies back and forth, grinding and carressing, the friction further building their rising heat. Without a sliver of space between them, every writhing twist and dip rubbed their chests, abs, and crotches together arousingly. All of the previous “tension relieving” could not withstand Gabriel's writhing or his groping hands. Jack was, very quickly, very hard.

When the dancing became obviously-not-dancing, Jack didn’t notice nor care. Maybe it started with that first open-mouthed, panting, hard kiss, when he realized it had been days since he last tasted Gabriel, since he felt that little tickle of his moustache on his upper lip and felt the sensation of his tongue sliding against his. Hands tangled in blonde and brown hair, pulling, scratching down muscles flexing under snug t-shirts that were quickly yanked off in favor of touching naked flesh. The planes of Gabriel’s muscles were so wonderfully familiar, and Jack touched them with instinctive knowingness of their paths and curves, but it felt like it had been ages.

For them, it had been. They could blame duty, or Jack’s new position and all of the shifted focus and demanding meetings it required and their increased time apart. Yet their positions as high ranking soldiers in Overwatch had never impeded on their intimacy. They always made time, whether a few seconds or the rare full evening of blissful togetherness. Days without touching, kissing, a playful flirt, or a tender word--something was wrong and they couldn’t keep avoiding it.

Later though. Some other time. Gabriel was there, in his arms, kissing and touching him. And that’s all that mattered for now.

Jack’s fatigues were tangled around his ankles by the time he shoved Gabriel against the long table adjacent to the wall. His fingers worked swiftly at the other man’s belt as he awkwardly shucked off his boots and tried to kick off his pants while riding Gabriel of his.

Gabriel mumbled something that sounded like “wait” as Jack gripped his fatigues to yank them down his thick thighs. One hand untangled itself from his lover’s hair to dip into his pocket.

Panting, mouth red and wet from kissing, Jack leaned back enough to look at the bottle Gabriel held up. “You were planning this?” he asked, earnestly surprised.

The soldier gave him that smooth, handsome smirk that made Jack’s knees weak. “I was planning on rewarding you if you did good,” he replied. “I thought I was too angry to fuck you, but I’ve changed my mind.”

Jack grinned, and Gabriel rolled his eyes at his lover’s haughty expression. “Well then in that case, I will happily take my reward.” He snatched the little bottle from the man’s hand before putting it aside.

Gabriel sat on the edge of the table, planting his hands behind his back as he watched Jack lower himself to remove his boots, pants, and underwear. The soldier’s hands caressed over his inner thighs, pushing them open wider, and a low sigh rumbled from his mouth; the sound became a moan when Jack’s lips followed his touch. “I thought you were supposed to be taking your reward,” he breathed.

“I am,” Jack replied against his brown skin, kneading one thigh firmly while the other was lavished with gentle kisses. His impish blue eyes flicked up to Gabriel’s face and he shuddered at the dark, hot expression he found. Jack’s knees pressed against the cool linoleum floor. “I’m taking what I want.”

Gabriel laughed, yet again the sound was stolen from his lips. It became a choked gasp in his throat as Jack’s mouth followed the path of his thigh to more intimate, sensitive places. Lips, tongue, and teeth slid teasingly over hard lines and softer curves. He breathed deep and slow, inhaling the pleasant musk of Gabriel’s body and exhaling hot, moist air over his flushed skin. His eyes never left Gabriel’s face.

The shape and flavor of him were so achingly familiar, and like an addict finally assauged, Jack groaned in relief around his lover. Only then did he close his eyes, selfishly reveling in that first moment not for Gabriel’s pleasure--which was evident by the tremble in his muscles under Jack’s touch and his gasped curse--but his own. His lips encircled and pulled at his thick girth, the flat of his tongue cupping its contours while the tip traced pronounced ridges and wrinkled skin. When Jack’s nose pressed into the thick thatch of hair beneath Gabriel’s navel, he just as greedily took in his heady scent.

He barely even heard the beautiful, foul litany Gabriel rasped in Spanish, but the sounds seeped into his burning ears. His lover’s curses were punctuated by rumbling groans and the rarer, higher-pitched whimper. When Gabriel buckled and sank against the table, Jack lifted his thighs to rest over the strong arch of his own shoulders, worshipfully massaging their corded, woven muscles. He pushed up his hips, palms and fingers flattening against his abs to feel their fluttering spasms. With Gabriel’s legs framing his head and his lover’s hands desperately buried in his blonde hair, he was enveloped in the heat of his body. And when that heat suddenly burst onto his tongue, Jack swallowed it, burning and thick down his throat.

He didn’t stop until Gabriel was gasping and tugging on him, letting his legs slide limply off Jack’s shoulders to pull him demandingly into his arms. Jack did not feel so inclined to comply; this was, after all, his reward to take. He shoved at Gabriel’s hands before his own found the firm undersides of his thighs. Weakened and dazed from his orgasm, Gabriel gave only a weary growl as Jack pushed his knees up toward his head. With his lover so lewdly opened and bared, Jack’s dripping tongue pushed inside his tight, wanting body.

Jack knew where he was most sensitive, what drove the stoic, cool man into mindless, vulnerable whimpering and writhing. His tongue coiled, thrust, and swirled artfully inside Gabriel. His fingers curled into claws against his dark skin, raking down his haunches and digging into the meaty swell of his ass.

Gabriel’s pleasure was secondary to his own enjoyment, but he felt smug satisfaction at every strained whine and the way he shook so hard the table rattled beneath him. A not so small part of him even reveled in “punishing” him for contributing to their long drought of intimacy. But Jack wasn’t cruel, and the aching pressure between his own legs was becoming too urgent to ignore.

As he stood, Gabriel’s arms and legs immediately embraced him, and he tugged Jack down into a sloppy kiss of wordless begging. He managed to blindly find the bottle of lube as they kissed breathlessly, slathering his cock with the cool, slick substance. He grasped their members together, groaning and pushing against his lover’s swiftly hardening flesh, but Gabriel growled with impatience. Jack hissed as his nails tore down his back and grasped his ass. His blue eyes flashed, meeting Gabriel’s defiantly, hands still pumping over their moist genitals. The other man’s brows were furrowed and his stare intense, but his expression was both blissful and pleading. Please, Jack, it said, and Jack could not say no.

His hips found the sensuous rhythm of the slow, exotic music, and he danced between Gabriel’s thighs.


End file.
